


What's Real

by astaria51 (winged)



Series: This Jet Black Feeling [3]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Thursday
Genre: Angst, Community: yeahchemical, Crossover, Fear, Love, M/M, Multi, Persistence, RPF, RPS - Freeform, challenge, crossover100, post-sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-27
Updated: 2005-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winged/pseuds/astaria51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Geoff tries to fight the inevitable and loses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Real

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the yeahchemical crossover100 challenge, prompt 87, Life.
> 
> I am apparently incapable of writing bb!Geoff as not angsty and scared.
> 
> Didn't happen. Etc.

"We can't do this," Geoff says, staring at the glitter worked into the popcorn ceiling, and pressing his lips together. He thinks how cliché and horrible it would be to reach for his shirt, but then again, hasn't he already ruined the moment, and oh, god.

Gerard, who is still slightly tipsy, laughs in a way that could cut glass and says, "I bet you say that to all the boys." Geoff sits up, away, anything to miss his eyes (isn't that what got him here? thinking those eyes were _innocent_ and _naïve_ when what they were was _infatuated_ ). "Such sweet pillow talk," Gerard continues.

He's not really hearing as Geoff says, "I _do_." Geoff thinks sickly that, fuck, he's said it to Mikey, even if it's not quite the same way. He looks at his bare skin, hates it, shoves his shirt over his shoulders.

"You're wrong," Gerard says, and pushes himself up onto his elbows. "We are doing this." He cackles. "This." He makes a thrusting motion, as much as one can from their elbows. "Fucking. You don't fuck someone and say we can't do this afterwards, Geoff. That's not performance anxiety, that's fucking, performance -- _denial_." He pulls his pants on.

"That's not what I mean." Geoff turns, looks at him. "Gee, it's not about fucking. It's about...it's, I can't do this -- again." He sighs, wishes his eloquence would carry over when he needed it. Gerard knows him and his stories (symbiotic entities) intimately. He feels like he's passing this off on an ex who broke his heart, when really it's his entire life that broke what feels like most of him.

Gerard falls back against the floor, his head thudding softly, and Geoff's eyes crinkle into concern. Gerard stares up at the ceiling.

"You know what? We're _doing_ this. It's not about can't, or can. We _are_. I don't fucking care what you think about definitions, or whether you're strong enough, or whether we're supposed to fucking be an us. Fuck that. History isn't about people who got together for lunch and decided feminism'd be rad. Life's a fucking big string of things that happened because someone did them. Because it felt _right_ , because they _had_

 _Something stretches its arms inside Geoff's chest, and he hates that about Gerard, because he's not the one supposed to be feeling like he has to be hospitalized. He's supposed to be the one changing everything, teaching, something. Not the one constantly trying to catch his breath._

 _"And that's what we fucking are," Gerard says, and looks at him, eyes sparkling like the ceiling for a better reason. "It's not about fucking being strong. Fuck being strong. If I was strong, tonight wouldn't have gone down like it did. And I don't fucking care if we're an us. You're what's true. I come back because you're the only thing that keeps being real."_

 _Geoff wants to kiss him, and doesn't only because he knows he's hurt him too much tonight. "Gee, _don't,_ I'm not--"_

Gerard doesn't even hear him. "So fuck whether or not you _can_ do this, because I know you'll keep coming back. And we're going to look back one day, and you're going to have legions of fans, and I'm going to be some wrinkly dude in a loft somewhere. And we're going to realize that we always _were_ an us."

Geoff feels suddenly exhausted. He flops down on the floor, tucking his head against Gerard's chest. "I'd like that to be true," he answers, shushing the stab in his stomach, and the younger boy, pulling Geoff close, seems to take it as enough.


End file.
